Not Quite Eternal
by Myrime
Summary: None of them is sure anymore what to believe. They are friends, brothers even. But, sometimes, that is not enough. - Lily, the Marauders and not following their hearts.


Not Quite Eternal

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 _Sometimes the hardest thing to hear is the truth._  
(House Rules - Jodie Picoult)

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„Lupin," Sirius greets him, detached, not at all like the brothers they have been not so long ago.

Remus does not flinch, does not react at all, because he is almost used to it by now, and he is not surprised and he is not hurt and – who is he trying to fool? He had just always been good at acting, and he really needs that now because it is all that keeps him from cracking.

"Sirius," he nods casual enough, though his hands are clenched tightly. But he manages to keep his head held high as he walks past his former friend, past the seat he had originally occupied, back when they had joined the Order – and were still young and hellishly naïve and set on keeping their silly vows on eternal friendship.

He chooses a chair at the far end of the room, next to where Emmeline, who is kind of a mother to all of them, and McGonagall, who had always put trust in him, will sit. It is also close to the back door, which he is dead set on using should things get ugly again. The full moon is only two days away, so he is that much easier to irritate and things are already bad enough.

"So," Sirius asks conversationally, carefully balancing his chair on its back legs. "How're you doing?" His face is perfectly polite but for the small smirk playing on his lips.

Remus looks about the room, hoping it is not him that question is pointed at, but the only other occupants are Mundungus, who has fallen asleep in a heap of ragged clothes, and Moody and Kingsley who are quietly arguing in a corner. Then, of course, there is that intent stare directed at him, turning Sirius' familiar eyes into icy grey.

For a moment he ponders what to say, how to end that certain-to-turn-awkward(-or-violent) conversation as quickly as possible without making things worse between them. The truth would be: lonely, tired, sad, angry.

Instead, he shrugs, "Well enough. Got much to do these days."

Nothing is well, neither with the war nor his own life. They are slowly losing, no one could deny that, and he, additionally to losing his friends and chosen family, had difficulties finding and keeping a job that would pay for his dingy room and feed him at the same time.

"I thought you'd be a bit more distressed."

All of a sudden Remus feels wary, dreading that new blow that is surely coming his way. And, sure enough, Sirius continues lightly, as if talking about the weather.

"I mean, with the Bones dying." Then he leans forward, bringing the chair back to all four legs with a loud noise. "Didn't you _help_ Edgar with the wards?"

Remus inhales deeply, then holds his breath, shocked into silence by the sheer monstrosity of this badly veiled accusation. He does not know how to react. The wolf in the back of his mind howl and rages, urging him to snap and shout and fight.

But he is just so tired. Finally he sags in his chair and meets the hostile glare openly. "Do you really think that?"

At that, something deflates in Sirius. He sits back, his shoulders losing part of their tension, his eyes their icy quality. "Might be," he states in weak defiance. "Who else?" then, as an afterthought, almost too low to hear, "No."

Some distant part of Remus, fed up with the injustice of it all, roars "Then why?" and Sirius' mouth opens as if to answer, none of them knowing if they really want to go down that road, but he is interrupted by several newcomers filing into the meeting room, and then there is James, throwing himself into a chair next to Sirius and all thoughts of explanations and reconciliation are – gladly – forgotten.

"Hiya, Padfoot. Didn't think you'd be here so early."

"Thought I can't be late _every_ time," Sirius answers, deliberately turning his back on Remus, and his voice almost does not sound strained and his grin looks almost true. "Where's Lils?"

"Changing pregnancy tips with Alice," James rolls his eyes – after making sure none of the both women are in sight. "Ever since they found out, they've gone mad." Then he lowers his voice to a stage whisper, "I even have to eat _healthy_ things."

And they laugh. The need to join them hurts almost physically. How hard would it be? He only had to get up and reclaim his seat, hit their heads together and quote something from 'Hogwarts: A History', like a hundred – a thousand – times before.

How easy, how natural, how impossible.

And Remus is glad he did not start to move, because now James is scanning the room, eyes jumping casually over his wary form.

"Where' Peter?" and it is like there have never been four Marauders. Only ever three. But it is a good question, where is _he_?

"Said something about his mum being sick."

Suddenly, Remus is filled with deep suspicions. Didn't he use that same threadbare excuse when he had something bad to hide?

Then he almost laughs out loud. Is he so desperate already to ship the blame from himself to suspect Peter? Little afraid-of-his-own-shadow Peter? Ridiculous.

Someone slumps into the chair next to him, effectively interrupting his thoughts.

"Hey, Remus," Lily greets, in stark contrast to the rest of his friends, honest, cheery, concerned.

"Lily," he smiles, "You're looking good. A great sight for sore eyes."

She hits him playfully, but it is true. Despite the dark rings under her eyes she looks radiant, the pregnancy seemingly making her shine from the inside.

"Well, I'm not yet fat and slow. I guess that is something to be grateful for." Then her smile darkens a bit. "Why are you sitting all alone?"

He thinks about playing it down, saying that, surely, Em would be here in no time at all and then he'd be glad to be alone because she would just nag him about how thin he is. Instead, he shrugs, at once uncomfortable.

"Didn't want to provoke a confrontation. The times are hard enough without me adding to our problems."

She straightens at that and speaks fiercely, "Don't say that. It's not _you_ making problems."

"Lily, please –"

"No," she cuts him off, and he cannot even begin to describe the warm feeling flooding through him at her vehemence. "This bloody arguing is childish and ignorant and –stupid."

The thing is, they do not argue. Then Remus would have a chance to defend himself, and they all know he would somehow be able to prove his case and where would that leave them? Also, it is ' _Never trust a Marauder to tell the truth_ ' so they rather avoid him and accuse him from afar.

"Everyone is more likely than you." He snorts at that, but she ignores him. "Peter for example. No one knows where he is or what he does."

Distrust flares again. If even Lily – but no, that does not change the fact that Peter would not – and could not – do such a thing. She is just looking for an escape for his sake. But that does not make it right. "He's –"

"- a much less likely suspect than I am," he interrupts her in a strange combination of sharpness and surrender. "Hidden beast within and all that," his weak attempt at a joke fails miserably.

Lily opens her mouth to protest, then closes it again. "It's not fair."

"No," he laughs, "None of this is."

"Lils," James shouts from across the room, and his voice is jovial enough but his eyes narrow as they fall on Remus. "I feel lonely over here."

At first she does not react at all, then she lays her hand on Remus' arm and sighs quietly. "I never should have let you talk me into going out with him."

Remus smiles in answer, albeit weakly. "But you love him."

"Sometimes that's not enough."

He does not know what to say to that and he is saved by James who calls "Lily" again and starts to add something else when he is, paradoxically, stopped by Sirius who throws a wary sideward glance towards Remus.

For a moment none of them moves, and it is like time stops and fate moves to find a new balance. Then Lily gets up, deciding not to worsen things between them just to prove that she will not get dictated around by her husband. She smiles at Remus and he nods, grateful that at least one of them still trusts him.

It is hard to follow the meeting, to pretend he has still room for all the loss and failures and dead ends. When it is finally over he hurries over to the back door, not willing to join the dreadful small talk and hoping and planning, nor wanting to have another confrontation with the remaining fragments of their unbreakable quartet.

He has the floo powder already in his hand when someone grips his arm, unrelenting and almost painfully tight. Closing his eyes for a moment, he inhales deeply, playing to whatever deity might listen to let him keep his patience, and turns around to face Sirius. Only that it is James, lips pressed into a fine line and hazel eyes dark.

"You're my friend, Remus," and he wants to laugh, because it is so obvious that they are everything but. "Right?" James' voice breaks a bit at that last word, and both of them sense, that some invisible line has just been crossed.

"Of course," Remus replies. "Brothers, remember?" Part of him is satisfied by James' flinching at his almost mocking tone. "Are you?"

James ignores that, instead he continues, his tone urgent. "I need to keep her safe."

Coldness spreads through Remus' veins – is that feat in the other man's eyes? Invincible, arrogant James Charlus Potter afraid? Then again, they have all the reasons to be.

"So do I," his voice is hoarse, and he wants to add, _I want you all to be safe_ , but he feels he does not need to. Wasn't there a time when they could read each other like an open book? James' grip tightens for a moment and he takes that as confirmation.

"Be careful," Remus says, sporting a small half-smile, just like all those times in Hogwarts when they were forced to separate while pulling a prank – or running away from Filch afterwards.

The black-haired man nods solemnly. "You, too," he replies before turning away. He stops again in the doorway, hazel eyes serene. "And Moony," he begins reluctantly, "I am."

The he is gone and Remus is alone again. Looking at his hand he notices that every last grain of the floo powder has run through his fingers, not unlike that friendship he savours above all else. Now it lies like ashes next to his feet.

He sits down on the ground, not even attempting to try and gather it up again and save it. It is such a nice metaphor.

He starts laughing then, like Sirius has done a hundred desperate times before, because look at how high they have been, how mighty and pure and perfect.

They have fallen. And now, no matter how much they pretended their friendship was an unbreakable diamond, at the end of their journey, they are just a clattered ball of pressed ashes.

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Reviews would make my day. Thanks for reading!


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